To be or not to be

How do you get over the fear of taking the next step? How you get over the anxiety of preparing yourself to be opened up to scrutiny?

There is never a point of being ready for that stage (this and all subsequent cheesy puns/cliches intended). There is never going to be a time when you are completely at peace with your piece and ready to place your self on the temple stand for the entire congregation to stone.

I suspect that’s part of my reason for coming to blogosphere; trying to get ready for an audience and allowing some thick skin to develop. And even then I am defeating the effort because I have delayed in sharing this space with anyone.

I am building up to a resolve; every time I make a blog entry I am obligated to do some writing or editing regardless of how exhausted I feel. I have a naked baby lying out there in the folders, and it is in dire need of dressing up.

I’m getting to the point of feeling shame. I’ve set this up with my irrepressible excitement over the last few months. I’ve neglected being sociable on account of this all-consuming force. And I have not returned patience and courtesy with a product.

Fear! What hast thou done to me?! Thou hast crippled me and tossed my crutches into the depths of the ocean. Thou has made a lily-livered jelly-fish of me! Thou hast reduced the complexity of the cerebrum to an amoebic entity. Thou hast…oh peas and cheese! Thou hast given the giants of literature, good reason to cringe at the pomposity of this grotesque verbosity.

Fear, I set you aflame and sprinkle your ashes on the La Sorciere hill. The soucoyants will pick at the ashes and spit them out to be scattered on the seas. The hurricanes will sweep them over the Atlantic sea-scape and your name will be a figure only in memory.

I am constantly thinking about Mavis… my chest tightens in spite of the rational expectation of her demise; a demise which was the result of a natural fear. Survival demands that we transcend some fear, even natural apprehensions.

If we don’t keep writing then who will?

Well, well Mavis, you certainly have me writing, because I’m really trying to ignore the silence in the yard. Just a month and a half ago I took some photos of her with the intention of capturing her energy to share here. Thank you ol’ girl for posing so well.

Namaste

Haikus for you

I am not usually one to write in response to an emotional issue but Mavis, for you, yes. For all your distresses, we never gave up on you and we loved you anyway. This is what we saw as a smile.

Last year, 27.10.07 I wrote this, imagining how she felt because everytime I heard thunder and I wasn't home I'd worry about her; worried that she might get hurt from her neurotic response to the noise. This is it, unedited, just a dog owner equally neurotic about her dog's distress:

A Dog's Rant


Not again!
The cataclysmic cosmic upheaval
wet soggy days
cloying cold air
and the fiery light in the sky!

If this is a dog's life
I'd rather be an amoeba.

The entire family became as anxious as she did and we built kennel upon kennel to secure her safety. We even got medication to sedate her during extreme weather. The same devotion she gave us as man's best friend we tried to return it. Now we can do no more, and all I can do is remember and write.

your son waits in grief
his pain is not seeing you
mine is knowing why



you knew what 'puppee!!!' meant
your black tail thump-answered loud
you knew i loved you



rain falls thunder rolls
a knell for a sweet soul tolls
goodbye beautiful black romp





Mavis, ma chien, ma chere...

Venting

I try not to use this space as a journal to comment on current issues but sometimes when I listen to my students, I am reminded of the dismal support for our creative landscape. If our young people feel that those who have ‘succeeded’ are neglecting to support the youths’ interest in the arts then what are we projecting for the survival of our creative spirits? Folks, all I can say is that sometimes our artistes, even those who have received acclaim, are still struggling, still working multiple jobs to make ends meet and don’t always have the energy or will to give back to the community which heaps false praise. The ideal situation would be a thriving community of exchange, but reality often projects a hustle for the creative soul.

A few weeks ago I took in a news clip of Walcott at Carifesta, berating, lamenting the fact that Caribbean governments do not spend enough time investing in the society’s artists. I do not remember the exact words, but that was the gist. As was to be expected, Guyana’s leader responded that governments have so much to do in terms of providing basic amenities and infrastructure that it is unreasonable to expect them to fulfil the needs of every social sector adequately.

You know, I’m tired of both arguments. I am tired of wishing and hoping that more could be done for our artistes. I’m tired of looking at my students who have hopes and dreams that cannot be fulfilled if they stay on our small island; and those who remain, need to take on a job that feeds self and family, to the neglect of the creative impulse. I don’t even want to hear the argument that you can work hard at your dream in spite of the dearth of opportunities here. I’m tired of that one too.

I’m tired of governments and politicians claiming that they are so overwhelmed in trying to provide for the people that some sectors of society have to be neglected and it just happens to be the one that some artistes fall under. So our artistes can fall into oblivion because we have to bring people food, water, transportation, and education, the basics. And jobs of course. Which takes me right back to our artistes. What, did you think that they just sat around creating and it stays on the shelves, or in the studios? Oh yes, that’s what happens now, because they’re not thought of as important enough to be given priority because we need water, food, transportation, education, jobs, oh yes, right back there, artistes.

So I am really fed up that Walcott had to remind us of how we still relegate the artiste’s work to recreational activity. And I am thoroughly exasperated that governments are giving the same old tired excuse.

Take my island state for example, we can pay thousands for a tourism consultant, whose work is not immediately apparent (note I did not say useless, I said not immediately apparent) and we can’t sustain the island’s creative arts awards, formerly, M& C fine arts awards. I am ashamed and disappointed.

I am certainly pleased that so much is happening in our music industry. It seems there has been recognition of that aspect of our creativity. But what about our print creativity? What is happening to our writers and thespians? What will happen to me when I decide I want to take the next step with my writing?

Deep down I don’t see the need to defend the value of the artiste's work, but I feel as if at some point in time I am going to be venting my frustration with people who are intent on putting the creative impulse as an extra - curricular activity; as if writers and thinkers are idle scribblers while the rest of the world toils significantly at holding society together. What about the vision which writers present; reminders of what we need to consider but too often forget?

I refuse to feel defeated because I’ve only just begun. I can only hope you feel the same.